Untied shoes

Sometimes I feel ten. What am I talking about? I always feel ten. I used to say I felt twelve, but no, twelve is too complicated, too intense. I am ten. In reality I am three times that old and then some.

Like last Wednesday. I am at the grocery store with a red yo-yo spinning from my finger. One of my converse tennies is untied, there are three pieces of Hubba Bubba in my mouth. It's almost nine o'clock at night. I push my grocery cart as fast as I can down the aisle, hopping on the back axle for a free ride into frozen foods. It never gets old.

On Monday, I taught gymnastics. the best part is when all the kids leave and I can do all of the things I told them not to. Back flips into the foam pit. A thousand russian jumps on the trampoline. Cartwheels off the cheese mat.

Today, I am teaching hip-hop to eleven year-olds. I cannot count the number of times the words "dude" and "like" come out of my mouth. I was an English Major. I used to make my living by sounding much smarter than I was. Not so much now - but at least I have "street cred" with 5th graders.

Why I am I like this? I don't know for sure. Maybe it's because my real ten felt like 32.